


Feel the bond - deleted scene:

by Kay245



Series: Heat of wolves, ruts of dragons [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/M, Jon is manipulating Daenerys, Lots of Angst, POV Sansa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 09:30:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13097256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kay245/pseuds/Kay245
Summary: After the battle of the Dawn, Jon adn Daenerys return to Winterfell and have to decide what happens from there. As Sansa is going along with her duty, she stumbles on a conversation between the two.Deleted scene from feel the bond





	Feel the bond - deleted scene:

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all,
> 
> As per request, here is the deleted scene from Feel the bond where we see Sansa overhear Jon and Daenerys conversation. As this chapter didn't make the final cut, some information here might feel redundant with the rest of the story.
> 
> For new readers, this is a deleted chapter from an ongoing story. Normally, my plots are not so complicated that you can't jump in at any point of the story, but I'd still encourage you to read Hear the calling and Feel the bond first chapter anyway. If you don't want to do so, here are a few important things to know:  
> \- this is an omegaverse story: Sansa is an omega and Jon is an alpha. They shared a heat together at Castle Black as Sansa was healing from her injuries (this is the story from Hear the calling). Ashamed of it because they believe to be brother and sister, they never discuss it. Daenerys is a normal human (A/B/O come from the blood of first men)  
> \- it still loosely follows canon: Jon goes to Dragonstone, there is a wight hunt and unfortunately, he sleeps with Daenerys.   
> \- there is a lot of undercover lover/political Jon in this story: after the revelation of Jon's parentage, Jon keeps sleeping with Daenerys to avoid any inner fighting while WW and the Night King are a problem. But his true love is Sansa.  
> \- this scene is from Sansa's POV so it might look very "jonerysy" but it's definitely not (sorry for Jonerys' shippers).
> 
> The beginning is a special gift for General Crow who has so kindly followed all my stories and who so wanted to have a Brienne/Tormund pairing. General Crow, I hope this little tidbit agrres with you, thank you so much for your support!

A clash of swords and bodies before the opponents separated to retake their stances. Sansa looked down from the battlement to the courtyard, appraising the styles of Brienne battling Tormund. It was only for training, true. Yet, a small crowd had gathered to watch that particular match.  _ After all the war and loss and battles, and still people like their fighting matches _ , she thought heavily. She didn’t know if she needed admire or resent this particular resilience of people. Not three weeks had passed since the Battle of Dawn, the feast to celebrate their victory above the Night King still due in a fortnight and yet, it seemed that all was back to some semblance of routine for everybody. 

 

Another clash of swords and this time, Tormund was booted into the dirt with a strategically placed kick to his chest. Sansa’s eyes narrowed. Brienne’s breathing was heavy with exertion, something that seldom appeared when she trained. Especially now that she’d presented as an alpha and that her ruthlessness in battle seemed to reach a higher peak. Tormund’s looked at the knight from where he was on the ground, his eyes heavy - lidded as he curved his lips in that demented smile of his. Sansa couldn’t help but be surprised. Sure she’d known about Tormund’s strange longing in Brienne’s before - even curiouser for the fact that Brienne hadn’t yet presented and the obvious dislike the knight had for him. Yet, she’d always thought that it was in jest as for all his blatant interest, his manners never veered into active pursuit as would have naturally been the case for a full-blooded alpha. He hadn’t even attempted a stealing, which Sansa had to admit could speak more of his sanity than his desire, given that Brienne would have gelded him had he tried. When Brienne had finally presented as an alpha, she’d thought the superficial interest of Tormund would wane. At the smoldering look that the wildling alpha was sending to the alpha knight, she knew it wasn’t the case at all. 

 

The fight resumed between the two alphas and Sansa’s perplexity deepened. Brienne had always been a force of nature in a fight. Yet, there had always been a sort of calm and focused energy about her all the other times Sansa had seen her fight or train. This time, there was a tight tension between her and the wildling, a tension that she’d have dismissed as aggression hadn’t she known her sworn shield well or… known that sort of tension as well. Now that she’d noticed it, she couldn’t unsee it. She was shocked… No, surprised would be a better a word. Alpha-alpha paring were extremely rare and she’d always thought that once Jaime Lannister’s heart would have been free from Cersei, that the omega would be claimed by Brienne. Yet, several moons after Brienne’s first rut, there hadn’t been any apparent changes in their relationship. Now, with that fight with the alpha wildling, Sansa wondered. Rare, but not unheard of as she remembered Oberyn Martell’s and Ellaria Sand’s often whispered about relationship. However, she couldn’t have thought of people more dissimilar to Brienne and Tormund. Still…

 

“My Lady?” Davos interrupted her  train of thoughts and Sansa turned abruptly towards Jon’s steward.

 

“Ser Davos. Sorry for my distraction.” she answered politely.

 

“Not at all, my Lady. I am the one to apologize for my lateness.” replied the onion king while offering his arm to Sansa.

 

She took it gratefully as she’d been on her feet since before dawn this morning and the injury she’d sustained during Euron Greyjoy’s desperate attempt at seizing Winterfell tended to cramp whenever the weather was humid and herself standing for too long.  _ Another wound from a dreadful man _ , she couldn’t help but think every time she felt her flank pulse with pain.  _ But another dreadful man who’s dead when I’m still there _ , she reminded herself. It had taken Arya and herself to kill the horrid man, as high and gone on blood magic and fury he was. She could still remember Arya’s terrified face when she’d seen the wound she’d suffered to get her sister her opening for the death blow. And the yelling, of course Arya would yell. She felt herself smile at the memory.

 

“Something funny on your mind, my lady? Would you mind to share?” told her Davos

 

Sansa blushed. She didn’t know why her thoughts kept wandering away from her. Well, she knew but she’d rather not let herself dwell on that particular subject.

 

“Sorry, just sibling’s quibbles, Ser Davos.” she replied easily, knowing that her friend would be satisfied by that answer. “So, what are the latest news from the Eerie?” she asked back

 

Davos looked at her with a mirthful calculating eye. She chuckled softly and patted his arm.

 

“Well, as much as you are back to your place as Steward, I’m still the Lady of Winterfell.” she teased him lightly.

 

“And what a loss for everyone of us for you to fall back to that role.” said Davos earnestly. “None of us forget that we’d just have been fodder for the Night King’s army if you hadn’t been keeping the trade and supply up and running.” he replied earnestly.

 

“Well, I’m sure that at least the bookkeepers will appreciate the change dearly. I was a bit concerned that one or two might be pushed into an early grave by my slowness when it comes to numbers.” 

 

“I can assure you that no sane man would prefer an old withered man like me to a beautiful young woman like you, even for all the arithmetic in the world.” chuckled mirthfully Davos.

 

“It seems you haven’t met Maester Wolkan’s new apprentice, then. I swear I could see him refrain himself from stabbing me to death with his quill at some point.” she remarked dryly.

 

Davos and she shared a looked and then started laughing at the image of the short and scrawny bookkeeper brandishing a quill in a murderous manner. After a few minutes, they both regained their composure.

“So what about the Vale?” finally asked Sansa as she finally composed herself.

 

Davos face darkened a bit and Sansa felt her mind sharpen as she started to grow a bit unsettled.

 

“The message is from Lord Hardyng. While not exactly very forthcoming, it hinted at some unrest. There is some wording that made me think that he might try and depose Lord Arryn.”

 

She frowned at the seriousness in Davos’s voice. The man had always had a calm and composed attitude, so it was the little things that gave him away. He was worried, she could tell. She tapped her finger against her lips as she digested the news. They weren’t quite a surprise. After all, her cousin in the Vale had never shed his childlike behaviour. While it had been manageable when Sweetrobin had been young in age and decisions in the hands of his tutor, it was now more problematic as he’d aged but didn’t mature. Even his sickly nature wouldn’t protect him for much longer, she knew. But so soon after the Long Night? The Vale was still struggling with the chaotic effects of Littlefinger’s political moves and the power vacuum caused by his death. A coup at this moment would only devolve in civil warfare and would drag the North along with it. So yes, such news were not to be taken too lightly.

 

“Would you mind showing me the letter? I’ve hosted Lord Hardyng for a few weeks during the Long Night. If I read his words, I might decipher better his intentions and then, we would be able to devise a plan to control the damage if he would resort to dire actions.” she finally said.

 

“Yes, that was what I wanted to ask you. The letter is in the library.” said Davos.

 

The library was empty as they entered it, the bookkeeper and the Maester occupied with the grain stores. Davos signaled to Sansa the closed desk where the letter was kept. They moved to the desk and Davos was to open it when they heard shouts from the small adjacent solar. 

 

“I did! I gave you the Iron throne! And before that the Northern throne as well! I betrayed my Banner men’s trust, I reneged on my promise to my own family.” Jon’s loud voice resonated from the small solar.

 

Sansa looked at Davos as they both stopped abruptly. Obviously, Jon and Daenerys were inside the small room and from what it sounded, having quite a row. Before Sansa could open her mouth and urge discreetly Davos away, Jon answered back to an indiscernible murmur.

 

“ _ Please _ Dany. Now, be honest. What were your plans for me since you never intended to make me your consort? Was I to come to King’s Landing and join the Queen’s Guard so I could warm your bed until you found a prettier or shinier knight? Or was I to stay in Winterfell pining after you, bound to the North to keep it loyal to you?”

 

Sansa’s blood congealed in her veins at the mocking bitterness of Jon’s tone. Shock rendered her numb as she digested the words and their meaning. She could feel a dull thrum starting in her head. The pause after Jon’s words lengthened and she couldn’t help but lend an hear in morbid fascination. But there were no answers from Daenerys and only the deep acidic rumble of Jon’s voice.

 

“Of course, you’d have me stay in the North. After all, that is  _ your _ way of dealing with cumbersome lovers, is it not? You would name me Warden of the North and then I would forever be grateful for the scraps of  _ my claim  _ that I gifted to you, is that what you thought?”

 

This time there was a hurried whisper from the Dragon Queen. However, despite all her efforts, Sansa couldn’t make out the words. Not ones to soothe Jon, from the shrill laugh he responded with.

 

“And you think that they will cheerfully welcome me back in the fold? As I said before, Dany, I betrayed their trust! Do you really think that they would bend to the jilted lover who sold them to a Southern Queen? That they will forgive and forget? For seven hells, their fucking motto is the North remembers! So if you think you can take their independence, name an inconvenient lover warden and expect them to be ruled as smoothly as sheep, please think again!”

 

Sansa still glued to the spot where she was standing, suddenly found herself facing her cousin, who exited the solar in a hurry. Jon stopped abruptly. When their eyes met, his were so full of ire and scorn that they had her almost take a step back. She was about to open her mouth and apologise but his eyes fixated on Davos. The dismissal was brutal as he didn’t acknowledge her as he addressed Davos and commanded him to follow him to his solar. 

 

“Jon, wait!” came a voice immediately after.

 

It was Daenerys coming from the room and trying to call Jon back. Sansa, now, had the time to compose herself. As Daenerys caught sight of her, she curtsied. Daenerys’ face morphed into a haughty mien before replying by a nod and a careless “Lady Stark”. Sansa masked the cringe she felt at being treated like a servant and scrambled for something diplomatic to say. It was for nothing though, as the Dragon Queen left without even a word or a look more. Sansa’s eyes widened as she was left awkwardly behind in mid-curtsy. In a daze, she left the library, her mind still in a spin after everything she’d heard.

 

Soon, she found herself on the battlement of Winterfell, looking at the Winter landscape. She was cold, her face felt frozen in a mask. She touched her hands to her cheeks and when they came away, there was ice on her fingers. She looked bewildered at them. She’d cried, she realised. The last time she cried, she’d just bathed Rickon’s body. Jon had come and had, just that once, taken her in his arms in those same battlements.  _ He wouldn’t come now, not when he’s in love with his dragon queen _ , her mind suddenly registered.

 

Angrily, she wiped at her cheeks. There was an awful pain gathering deep in her chest and trying to claw out of her. Her breath increased into harsh little pants as she struggled with restraining the howl of sorrow threatening to get out. Never had she felt as much as a wolf than she did now. She wanted to tear something apart in rage and for the first time, wished Lady was alive so she could share her fangs and claws to kill something, to hurt it until she didn’t hurt anymore. Her chest heaved with impotent ire, her heart beating to a gallop in exertion at her desire for destruction. Like… Like… Her mind flashed Ramsay before her eyes, his little words burning like acid on her mind. _ I’ll always be a part of you _ . No, no, no, not like Ramsay. Perverted, cruel Ramsay… Her mind screeched to a halt… Wasn’t she all those things? Perverted to desire a man she’d thought her brother. To love him and want him to be her mate, despite his obvious anguish and revulsion at the act. She could still recall how sick he’d felt after their shared heat. How he couldn’t even look at her… She  _ was _ like Ramsay and like Cersei, a dark part of her mind whispered.

 

She ran. Ran to her chambers and barred the door. There, she started to pace wildly, hoping that the release of physical energy would burn away the storm that she felt in her heart. She realised now that what she felt for Jon wasn’t sisterly feelings. She might have tried to gloss over it, might have almost convinced herself that their shared heat had been an aberration. The cognitive dissonance enough to keep her from examining the truth of what bound them. But now, she couldn’t ignore it anymore. A part of her had always thought that he would be her bound mate. That the slight sharing of the blood coming from her chapped lips would be enough to bring them together in the end.  _ Stupid, stupid, stupid… _ She could recall now how satisfied she’d been anytime that Jon would glare at Littlefinger, anytime he would dismiss any alpha coming in her vicinity. She might have ignored it then, but now she knew that the little flame in her heart wasn’t that of a sister feeling protected.  _ Fool, fool, fool, _ she muttered to herself. Once again, she’d dressed a man in knights clothing, dreaming that he would be hers to love, only to find that the dream wasn’t for her. Her fingers curled into claws, and she clenched her hand into a fist until her nails bit into the skin of her palm.  

 

Yet, even when the half-blood indents on her palms made way to small red pearls, physical pain couldn’t abate her anguish. And for the second time after Rickon, she cried in shame and heartbreak, lifting her hands to her eyes, unminding of the blood blending with her tears.


End file.
